Discovery
by thecurlEgurl
Summary: Boy meets girl. Girl happens to be the daughter of an evil dictator. She doesn't tell you. Girl takes you on one of the greatest and most trying adventures of your life. Girl and boy begin to fall in love on the way. Discover why. TornXAshelin
1. Chapter 1

Cold; that's all she felt. Everything from her fingertips to her toes was ice. Ashlin began rubbing her chafed hands together for warmth, but it was like trying to make a fire out of damp wood. Despite the failed effect, Ashlin continued rubbing until she winced at the tiniest bit of pain from the friction. At this point however, she was thankful to be able to feel anything besides the cold, even if it was a sharp prink in the nerve endings near her fingernails. It was surely better than the droning numbness of the mind and senses that had accompanied Ashlin ever since the battle.

At first she had truly felt nothing. Her leg, which should have been throbbing and aching relentlessly, instead lay motionless and unfeeling in the sand. Eventually her face, splattered in blood and buried in pieces rubble, could only sense the cool surfaces of the bits of rock and shards of metal that pierced Ashlin's pale skin. They would certainly become scars in due time.

Nevertheless, Ashlin refused to pity herself. There were many soldiers, young and old, who had lost their lives in this battle. Countless more had been sacrificed for the war effort. At least she was alive; frigid and lame, but alive.

Far and near Ashlin could hear those whom had not yet been taken. They wavered on the fence between life and death as their bone chilling cries provided and appropriate backdrop for the situation. If her lips and lungs had allowed, Ashlin would have cried out as well. She, and those around her, were the unwanted, those whom death had refused and life continually pushed back into their hellish existence. _Would it really be better just to let go now?_ Ashlin thought to herself. How could she return to her father like this? He had raised a strong daughter to take his place as ruler when the time was right.

Maybe she was already dead. Maybe what Ashlin had confused with the after effects of battle was really just the brink of Hell. She felt helpless and alone with only the distant sounds of gun fire and fellow unwanted soldiers to keep her company. _I must be dead. _Ashlin thought decidedly. Ripped from the world that abandoned her and tossed carelessly into a pit of hopelessness, this must certainly be the afterlife.

Rolling over slightly, Ashlin adjusted her broken leg. It felt like a stone had been strapped to the socket where her left leg had once been. _Could you feel pain in the afterworld?_ Apparently not. As Ashlin carefully stroked her bruised body, a memory flickered in the distant corners of her mind.

There was a golden basin, filled to the brink with cool, clear spring water. A woman whose skin was not brown, yellow, peach nor any of the other natural colors hovered at the edge of it. Her face was a ghostly white with small highlights of yellow and red. _Who was she?_ Ashlin struggled to remember. The woman was mumbling something, some lost, forgotten language. '_Paleen Encontaba_' she spoke more clearly now. Ashlin grasped someone's rough hand.

He spoke in a deeper voice. _'Bring her to us, let us see her'_ he ordered more than asked.

_'You know as well as I the ways of the after life, Praxis. Once fate has taken her, there is nothing left I can do'_ the woman spoke with a lullaby monotone.

_'Fate has nothing to do with it' _he snapped back _'My wife was not taken by fate. She was taken by mistake, by the most despicable of creatures. Still, within me I can feel her heart beating. She may not be dead. Let us see her.'_

_'I prefer not to tempt our precursors_' the woman stood rigid _'Witnessing what we are not meant to see binds our own destruction' _she finished so strongly that, even out of the memory, Ashlin flinched.

Suddenly, Ashlin's father dropped her hand and pulled a knife to the woman's throat. _'You will show me what I desire to see or risk your own destruction'_. Ashlin could see the madness in his eyes as the knife quivered.

Yet the woman whose words belonged in a forgotten time did not tremble. '_Very well'. _

With a gasp of air Ashlin was brought back into reality. Unexpectedly, her bones began to ache and the dried blood on her face felt tight. She wanted to rip the flesh of her very bones. It stung, itched and ached all at once. For the first time she was able to let out a deafening scream.

Someone was carrying her. Yet, Ashlin could not feel the metal armor of one of her fathers Krimzon Gaurds. He was not of the army. The boy was struggling to lift her and stumbled himself through the field of bodies. As her vision dimmed, Ashlin caught a glimpse of the boy's blue eyes before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

As light and sight returned, Ashlin let out a feeble groan (mainly to convince herself that she was in fact alive). Her eyes darted about and the blurry edges of her vision slowly became clearer. She was in the slums. The walls of this hut were dirty and she could hear the bubbling of a mysterious concoction in a pot next to her bed. The distant smell of rotting bodies, burnt ash and wet dog were all but overbearing for the teenage girl whose life had been shielded from such things. She groaned a second time to alert any possible bystanders of her presence. Who had spotted her in the midst of a battle?

"Oh, I see you're awake my dear" said a deeply haunting voice from across the room. "After day 3 we were almost convinced that you'd never wake up, but my son persisted" the man chuckled. "That's so like him, my Torn. He was entirely convinced that you'd come to your senses in due time".

Not knowing exactly what to make of the situation Ashlin gave a subtle nod. Who was this man? Where was she? Was it close to the palace?

"Oh there's no need to be frightened. My son and I are but humble weavers and cooks. We clothe the hungry and feed the naked" he paused "Or…er that's feed the hungry and clothe the naked". The man laughed heartily and his dim eyes seemed to brighten a bit more. "Please forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Jacob, son of Jacabe. I believe you already know my son Torn" he gestured to a corner of the room where a young man was playing with a needle and a piece of distressed fabric.

Behind strands of braided hair was the boy with blue eyes who had carried Ashlin through the wastelands. Cheeks turning red, he tossed the cloth aside and waved half heartedly.

"Torn there's no need to be shy. I'm sure this young lady won't bite" Jacob brushed a piece of hair out of Ashlin's eyes for her. "See, perfectly harmless" he smiled. "You sustained quite a few injuries you know. Many of them we were able to mend with our tools of the trade" Jacob held up a thin needle and thread.

Ashlin flinched at the thought. She began to feel her face. The shards of metal were gone, but in there place she could feel bits of thread. The man had stitched her face together! Frantically Ashlin's hand's dove about for a mirror, any sort of reflecting glass would do. Jacob caught her before Ashlin's entire arm flew into his cooking pot.

"I know it is common for young ladies to care about their looks, but it was necessary to close up the gashes in your skin to avoid infection or worse" Jacob looked sympathetically to her. "And I'm afraid that we're still not sure if that leg will ever fully heal again. We've avoided amputation just yet for— " but Jacob was cut off.

"Amputate it! You will not touch me with any such intention." She tried feebly to pull herself out of the cot. Ashlin was surprised at her own outburst. It was the first time she has spoken in ages and her voice had nearly cracked from the strain. How would her father react if his daughter returned with thread in her face and seriously lacking in the leg department? Would he cast her out? Hide her from the world? Ashlin did not wish to find out.

"Alright, alright" Jacob tried to calm her down and kept Ashlin from falling out of the bed. "Got some fire in your belly don't you? Well, in any case we expected this would happen. If you wish to keep your leg there is little else we can do then" his dull eyes saddened. "I suppose now would not be the best time to tell her about her hair then, ey Torn?" he turned around to ask his son.

"What about my hair?"

Jacob frowned. "When my son brought you here it was everywhere; stuck in your wounds tangled in armor. We had no choice but to cut it off. I'm so terribly sorry"

Ashlin's fingers touched her shoulders. Her ruby red hair had once weaved all the way down her back, now it did not even grace the tops of her shoulders. Furthermore, it did not flow freely as hair should. It was locked in the same tight braids as Torn's hair.

"Crop Rows" said Jacob, almost as if he had read her mind "to keep the hair out of your face while we were working. Torn and I wear them to keep our hair out of the food we make. Used to be quite the fashion when Damas was King" Jacob touched his own grey Crop Rows.

Suddenly, Ashlin stood very still. Was this man friend or enemy? What if he learned that she was the Baron's daughter? Would he throw her out on the streets with the crokadogs? Jacob and Torn were the first peasants she had ever met outside the palace, the first kind faces she had seen since the battle fronts.

"You know it really was your hair that saved you" Jacob said, interrupting Ashlin's thoughts. "Why, I'm not sure Torn would have seen you had it not been for that mane of red hair you were carrying around".

Ashlin forced a smile. Her father had always told her that the enemy was not just behind their reinforced walls, but within it. There were renegade fighters ready to slit her throat around every turn, the throat of a Baron's daughter. She must be very careful around these men, for who knew what side they were on. It might look suspicious to ask. Then again, this family had saved her. She owed them a life debt—especially to Torn. Until the debt was repaid, Ashlin would never truly be free of the laws that bound the deeds of men.

"What about the old soothsayer?" Once gain Ashlin's thoughts were interrupted, not by Jacob, but by Torn.

"What about her, son?"

"Couldn't she mend the girl's wounds?"

"A soothsayer does not mend the body, but bends the mind" responded Jacob.

"But father, maybe she will know what else we can do for this girl. Maybe Onin can find a way" his fingers shuffled a piece of cloth around. He had the voice of his father, deep and almost menacing were it not for the kind words that flowed from his lips.

Jacob paused for a moment to think, "Tomorrow, you may take her through the back way. Avoid all guards and major roots. That is only of course, if it is all right with you." He turned to ask Ashlin.

"I'll take any and every chance there is to heal my leg" she felt the brace that Jacob or his son must have bound around her lifeless limb. "And please, call me Ashlin".


	3. Chapter 3

"Here Torn, take some of these Burnent Berry's with you. There you go, that's better. Oh, and give my greetings to Onin—such a pleasant woman she is. Now, let's go wake…Ashlin? Yes, that's what she said her name was" Ashlin awoke that morning to the dark, musty hollow belonging to Jacob and his son Torn. Almost immediately she was greeted with the feeling of damp morning dew surrounding her cot. Even her clothes felt clammy.

"Get up, we're leaving" came a deep, raspy voice from the stairway—Torn's voice. Jacob's home was built below ground in what would one day become Underground Headquarters in the fight against the Baron. The stairway led upwards to a door that was well hidden, accept for those who already knew where to look. That was where Jacob and Torn lived, secreted from those they did not wish to encounter.

"No problem, I'll be there in a minute" Ashlin managed to balance herself on both elbows for a good two seconds before the pain was too much to handle. Grasping her throbbing arm Ashlin could feel the unmistakable tight stitched thread; reaching from her joint to her forearm was a long, deep gash. Another cut Jacob must have stitched up with his tools of the trade. "Damn cuts" she mumbled to no one in particular. In the midst of her waking Ashlin had almost forgotten about her scared and scratched body. After all, Jacob's home had no proper mirrors or reflecting glass for Ashlin to examine her current state.

In a massive effort Ashlin was able to pull herself upright without the use of her tender elbows or bum leg. Still sitting on the sunken cot she struggled to push herself fully erect without falling over. The task was difficult to say the least. One foot she wound around a table leg while using the healthy arm to push away from the bed. The combined effort got her as far as leaning forward before she had to sit down again.

_'Call for help,'_ a little voice rang in her ear. _'I'm sure Jacob wouldn't mind…nor his son Torn'_. Another, stronger voice responded _'You don't need help, you can do this yourself. You already owe a life debt to Torn. Asking for help would just add to the obligation'. _

Ashlin took a deep breath before making a second attempt; heaving the weight of her entire body she forced herself forward—but not up. Wincing Ashlin braced for the floor with her healthy arm before she was suddenly scooped up by…Torn? Where had he come from?

"When I told you to get up I didn't mean actually GET UP. I meant WAKE UP" Torn lifted Ashlin's good arm around his shoulders and began assisting her up the stairs. Ashlin attempted to use her functional leg to propel herself along, but it was really no use. Eventually Torn resorted to simply carrying her.

_'Fantastic_,_ great, perfect' _again the voice ridiculed Ashlin. _'Relying on Torn again? How many times has it been now? Are you really so helpless as to accept help from him again? Pathetic!' _the ridicule and guilt began pulling down on her. Who was it who kept mocking and insulting Ashlin in her head? What part of her was this?

"Put me down, I'm fine on my own" Ashlin spoke sharply.

"You can barely stand up, and you expect me to let you walk?"

"I said put me down" she hissed.

Torn looked taken aback. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm only the one who saved your life. That doesn't mean you need to respect me or even show me common curtsey or anything" he finished in a bitterly sarcastic tone.

"I only needed to ask you once to put me down. You're the one who—"

"Torn, Ashlin what's going on?" A voice interrupted from above. "You'll want to catch Onin before the sun comes up to avoid any guards who might be on your tale. Never know who's following you these days. Oh, and Torn let me take Ashlin from you, that leg is very delicate I'll carry her to the hovercraft".

"She's FINE dad".

"That's nonsense, she can barely stand up" he gently removed Ashlin from Torn's arms. She didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. Yes she was proud, but not cruel. This man had shown Ashlin more kindness that any of the children whom her father had ever paid to befriend her.

On her way out Ashlin turned to glace once more at Jacob's humble home. There were others in cots similar to hers. A dark haired woman with a light haired child and a broad shouldered man who looked nearly as bruised and banged up as Ashlin herself. Wait, was that Krimzon Guard armor by his bed? "Jacob, who are those people?"

"The lost, the hungry, the injured, the sick" he paused "those who have no where else to go".

"Why are they here?"

"Why, for the same reason you are: to be healed" he smiled and looked down upon her.

"But that man is a Krimzon Guard, he should be in a palace sick bed. That's where all the Krimzon Guards go".

"Not all those who wear the armor and bear the crest desire to be a Krimzon Guard. That man abandoned his troop after they robbed an old beggar man of his savings. Obviously the guards did not take his desertion very well—once you are inaugurated into the guard there is no going back on your word…his scars are not from the war. He was injured by the very troop he deserted. They nearly killed him. He only wears the uniform because it is all he as left" Jacob finished as he helped Ashlin onto the hovercraft behind Torn.

"That's very kind of you. You must have saved a lot of lives" Ashlin spoke with a genuine smile. This man had a son to support, and from what she gathered no wife to help him. Yet here he was, helping those in a worse state than himself.

"I only do what I can little miss" Jacob handed Ashlin a basket of assorted fruits. "Drive fast Torn, you're racing the sun".

Author's note: I know not a whole lot happened in this chapter, but I needed it mainly to help characterize Jacob and add more of Ashlin's physiological battle. Next chapter they'll go see Onin and stuff will happen…I promise! Also, if you have any comments, concerns, even flames are fine just post 'em. I love to hear reader's ideas—it helps me learn.


	4. Chapter 4

Torn took Jacob at his word; quickly but gently the two eased Ashlin into the back seat. Then, without a moment's hesitation, Torn kicked the hovercraft into high gear. It sputtered and shook for a moment, just long enough for Ashlin to anticipate an explosion, before zooming around the corner. The take off was so sudden in fact, that Ashlin barely had time to keep Jacob's fruit basket from flying out the side. Of course _a few _ripe plumens managed to escape; hitting a second-story window with a satisfying smack.

"Be careful or you might hit something." Ashlin gripped the rickety sides of the rusty, old hovercraft. She didn't mind flying. In truth Ashlin loved flying, but she also loved being in control. As the blurred outlines of dilapidated buildings flew past and engine exhaust trailed behind them, Ashlin felt her heart give a little cartwheel of panic. She was definitely not in control.

"Well, I don't know about you," Torn began "but I'm really not in the mood to be stopped by Krimzon guards today." He sped around another corner, nearly hitting a dangling roof tile. "Right now time isn't—" the hovercraft passed under a slow moving delivery wagon. "—on our side. When the sun rises we won't have the shadows to cover our tracks. What makes it even better is that the guards are already on the lookout for this hunk of metal."

"Why?"

"Turns out you aren't the only one who knows about my father's little underground bed and breakfast," Torn made a 'U-Turn' into the Bazaar. "and as luck has it, the Baron isn't too happy about a renegade hospital."

"Oh," Ashlin looked down at her hands. She knew her father had done some pretty bad things, but shutting down a hospital? No, he wouldn't do that. He was busy fighting a war to _protect_ the city…to protect her. "Does that mean he's after you?"

"He's after my father more than me. But hey, the Baron's really out to get all of us isn't he?" Torn said darkly, and the hovercraft came to a screeching stop.

"My f—" Ashlin caught herself just in time, but Torn eyed her suspiciously. "My… friends and I don't think that's true at all. The Baron just wants to protect us. He's trying to save everyone in these walls from metalheads. They're the ones out to get us. We'd all be dead if it weren't for the him!" Ashlin tried not to think what would have happened if she had let it slip that the Baron was her father.

"Protect us? Look around you. What do you see? Death, sickness, destruction?" Torn's hissed as he gestured to the palace. It looked so much more menacing than what Ashlin remembered. "He sits up there on his throne and destroys our lives. Anyone who holds on to even a single shred of hope is killed or tortured. Why do you think he's after my dad? Huh? He's the one person in this dump of a city who gives a damn, who gives people hope and the Barron is trying to kill him! _You'd_ be dead if it weren't for him!" Torn never let his voice grow above a whisper, but the severity in his tone still rang through the alleyway.

Ashlin's eyes remained steady, but her insides were doing summersaults. She knew that everything Torn had just said was true, even if she had never let it sink in until just now.

"Rawwwwk, what are you two lovebirds wasting time out there for? Onin has been expecting you!" Suddenly, a blue and red parrot… or wait, monkey? What in the name of Mar what that thing?

Without thinking, Ashlin gripped Torn with one hand and the basket of Jacob's plumen's with the other. "What—What is that thing?" Her fingers were automatically tightening around Torn's arm and a piece of fruit.

Pecker sighed. "Always the same. I, Pecker, introduce myself, and you screa—RAWWWK!" The bird-monkey ducked as a plumen was hurled in his direction.

"You, you just threw something at me! Why you little red-feathered, chicken brained…"

"Eahhhh, it talks!" Ashlin recoiled as if Pecker's mere presence were breaking some natural law.

"Well of course I talk." He monkey spat back at her; ruffling his feathers indignantly. "I'm not just some stuffed trophy to be hung up on a wall. I can walk and talk and oh yes, I have feelings too. Not that it means anything to you, apparently. Now, come inside before you wake up the whole city." Pecker flapped his wings back into the tent.

It took a moment before Ashlin realized that Torn was prying her fingernails out of his skin. "Oh, sorry" she withdrew immediately. There were five crescent moon shaped engravings where her fingernails had been seconds before.

Torn shrugged, but didn't say anything. Even Pecker's interruption had not seemed to soften his mood. For the first time Ashlin noticed the lines in the young man's face. If she hadn't known better Ashlin may have guessed Torn to be twice her age. The lines in his face were etched with anger, remorse and even fear. They were the marks of someone who had lived life hard—with passion and purpose. They made him look older, wiser. Not matter how hard she fought it; Ashlin could not deny that she felt a newfound respect for Torn. Had it not been for her pride, she may have regretted her outburst at him. Even apologized.

"Onin welcomes you." Pecker said in his airy accent as Torn carried Ashlin into the tent. Though the pain from her bruises and scars hand subsided slightly, Ashlin still cringed with every step they took.

"My father sends his greetings," Torn nodded to a pile of abandoned rags in the middle of the room. He set Ashlin down gently.

"Onin also says she is glad to meet you—though I do not know WHY you would want to meet anyone who is so, rawwwwwk, rude. Alright, alright I added that last part" Pecker narrowed his eyes.

"Onin, who is Ohhh," Ashlin finished softly as comprehension dawned. The pile of rags had lifted its head to reveal the wrinkled and time-worn face of a woman. Though toothless smile and milky eyes where slightly shocking at first, Ashlin understood that there was a certain kind of ageless elegance and beauty about the soothsayer. "How do you do, Madame?" She asked apprehensively; holding out a hand.

Pecker rolled his eyes, but Onin smiled another toothless grin. As she lifted her arm, bracelets slid down her wrists and rattled together. Instead of taking just Ashlin's hand, Onin pulled the younger soul towards her, and the two embraced. It was electric. Possibly the first true female affection Ashlin had felt since her mother had died. Wait a minute, that's right. _Mother. Death. Golden Basin. A woman whose skin was not brown, yellow, peach or… _

Ashlin faded out of time, and out of place. She was not in the tent anymore. Torn, Pecker and even Onin were all gone. She was in front of a golden basin with ancient inscriptions etched into a ring around it. Her father was there; clutching the Basin with his mighty hands; face almost touching the water.

The woman was there too, the one Ashlin had seen when she dreamed on the battlefield. She was still chanting the words from a forgotten time; moving her hands to a natural rhythm as her voice grew stronger. Ashlin strained her senses, as though by some miracle it would enable her to understand the meaning behind it all.

'_I can't see her. Why can't I see her? WHY CAN'T I?!' _ Ashlin could feel her father's anger as he screamed into the golden basin.

The woman continued to chant and move, but did not respond. Instead she shut her eyes tighter as though attempting to block out the rest of the world. She breathed heavily as her hands traced symbols in the air. There were circles, clouds, triangles, diamonds, human figures and finally, the Seal of Mar.

The ancient symbol sparkled a piercing blue as it filled the otherwise dim temple. It soared overhead for only a few seconds before swiftly floating down into the basin. _'We call upon you Mar, ancient warrior. Help us to discover the light of truth where there is darkness.' _She sighed as the symbol sizzled into the water. _'Now tell me Praxis, what do you see?' _

Ashlin noticed her father's expression soften as he glanced into the water. Pictures were forming. At first they were only distorted outlines, but soon people began to take shape. A woman was running; screaming. Ashlin gripped her father's hand. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them blinked.

Ashlin saw her mother pull out a handgun and fire aimlessly into the darkness. Blood was caked to her arms and legs. Her clothes were in shreds. Of course her eyes, Ashlin could never forget those eyes, were tearless. Her stunningly pure, green eyes stared fixedly into the darkness. They appeared as strong and steadfast as the woman herself.

_'My beautiful wife,' _Ashlin heard her father murmur in an uncharacteristically soft tone. _'I see her, but I don't recognize her surroundings. How can I find her? Where is she?' _

_'You know that even I cannot answer that, Praxis. The water shows truth, but how that truth is interpreted is dependent upon you.' _

_'But she'll die if I don't save—no, I can't loose her! You will tell me where she is. You will tell me where to find her or be damned to the wastelands!' _The monk woman cringed as Praxis' temper began to rise again. He was only inches from her face. _'Cast your magic spells, brew your potions, and use any of the occult arts you like. I don't care so long as you find a way!' _Ashlin took a step back. She could see the mad fire burning in her father's eyes. He shook the monk fiercely before throwing her across the temple. Her body scratched into the rough floor.

For a moment Ashlin was sure her father had killed someone, but after a moment the woman's arm twitched and her head turned to one side. _'You,'_ she panted as though every breath was a struggle. _'You will have your magic.' _ The woman forced herself up with one arm—the other was twisted in an unnatural way. _'Antolle ulua sulrim 'Ksher' . _She spat._ 'Bela ed' templa Kshonna lle. Amin feuya ten' lle. Amin thanga yassen templa lle.' _She gasped before repeating_ 'amin thanga yassen templa lle.' _

There was a jolt in the universe. Ashlin felt herself being thrown forward into reality where she landed in the arms of an old soothsayer.

"What…what was that? What just happened to her?" Ashlin blinked until the world came back into focus. She recognized that scratchy voice. Torn was leaning over her and Onin with a concerned but bewildered expression. He looked down directly at Ashlin. "I thought we'd lost you again."


End file.
